20 Solar Cycles
by Xentel
Summary: (Prime AU?) When he discovered an abandoned lab with a very small cache of energon, Starscream desperately used the small store. Now he must deal with the consequences as he begins to turn into something other.
1. Chapter 1

This is probably an odd concept. Hopefully people enjoy it.

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The small cavern was wider than it was tall, and would force most mechs to hunch over in order to navigate it. This made it somewhat optimal, as it was easier to hide the energon, which lay behind oblong chunks of metal. They did little to hide the faint glow, which cast shadows around the small rocks and pebbles scattered across the floor.

The cavern had one entrance which gave way to a larger spacious cave. Daylight streamed within from the entrance, revealing the slightly orange tint the dirt held. Many more tunnels could be seen within, all of them leading deeper into the earth. Only one tunnel had moderate sized boulders decorating its entrance, providing only a slight hiding spot for the mech that lay in its entrance, the soft glow of the energon illuminating them from behind.

Starscream had changed since he had defected. The two missiles he'd been armed with had fortunately long since been used, which prevented complications when the growths began to appear. They were mostly small but thick sturdy spikes of metal, and a protrusion replaced what would have been his missile, ridges growing along it in wide increments. His digits had grown fatter, but no less sharp, the palms of his servos growing thicker. His peds had grown slightly flatter, the tip widening significantly while his heel strut shifted in position.

His wings were useless now, as large growths had emerged along his back strut, unbalancing him. They could still shift around, but most of the wings had stiffened, which would make flight impossible, even if he was able to remove the growths. This was all assuming he could transform into his alt mode, which had proven impossible. Even his blasters were unusable, the mechanisms in his arms seemingly solidified.

These changes were only visible however, and Starscream could feel where many other changes were occurring. His denta, for example, hurt often, and the next day he found that he could open them just a bit wider, found that they jutted out just a little bit more, not past his dermas but growing a bit close. If he prodded around with his glossa, he found that there was small, new line of denta growing into the same area as the old. The rest of his frame had similar pains, but most of the changes were hidden from his view. He could only feel where and when the changes were happening, a painful experience that was becoming frighteningly more common.

Starscream sighed. The datapad had said that the main process would take 20 solar cycles. In that time he would either change, his frame growing and contorting into something… else. Or, if he were lucky, he would die, sparing him the pain of having to endure the final stage of the transformation, saving him from a future that he feared just as much as death.

He had read the entire datapad several times over. There was no way to tell what subjects would become. The mutagen, even if from the same batch, would interact differently with the CNA, making prediction and duplication impossible. Evidently, the scientists never got to perfect this error, as that particular section ended with a request for further research.

The uncertainty only helped to fuel Starscream's anxiety. The datapad left many questions unanswered, both old and new. When he first read it he had spend the night in a volatile state, first filled with rage, then curled up in the corner as he sobbed. Frag dignity, he didn't want to go out this way. To die either as a beast or curled up in agony somewhere, to weak to move even a digit. And the seeker was too much of a coward to take his own life, too scared of death to simply wait it out. The energon and scrap was the result of this, the efforts of the past deca-cycle.

So now, as he lay here in the tunnel, softly intaking as the pains slowly spread throughout his frame, he curled around himself, knowing it was the only comfort he would ever receive. He was alone, and though he was without factions, he knew any cybertronian who had any care for him had died long ago.

He waited, for either death or his transformation, desiring neither.


	2. Chapter 2

Starscream was no stranger to pain. In that field, megatron was an expert, and had often took care to impart his knowledge onto the seeker. He practically knew how to tell what type of injury he had on pains alone, and while not immune to it, damage that wasn't extreme had grown into minor inconveniences. However, the seeker had never experienced true agony. Or at least, not as bad as this.

The true structural changes had only begun 2 solar cycles after he had settled, which he had spent shifting in feeble attempts to get comfortable. However, upon nightfall, hours after he had refueled and devoured as much metal as he could hold, he could feel a pressure begin to build in his legs, all the way down to his peds. He ignored it, hoping that it was nothing or something that would result in his death.

He could not ignore, however he may have tried, the horrendous crack that echoed throughout the cave as his peds split open, as his lower legs shifted as internal mechanisms snapped, forming the bases for new joints. The shriek that tore from him almost startled him, mind focused only on the duller but still intense pain throughout his legs. Hours later, his arms had begun to do the same, and while they did not bend, they spread as his peds had, forcibly growing wider. His shoulders shifted soon after, moving slightly lower down his torso, jutting out from his body just a tad bit more.

These modifications came in increments. Some were slow, the slightly dulled pain the only indication that changes were occurring, and others were explosive, painful changes that left his wiring exposed and voicebox hoarse.

As the process continued, the time between the pressure and the expansions drew shorter. What once took cycles had shortened down to one, to breems, then finally to mere kliks. They were never any less painful, the soreness in fact making Starscream more sensitive in those areas. The only thing he was thankful for was that the expansions grew less common in the active areas as time passed.

He would often fall into a fitful recharge, quickly waking when an expansion occurred, or when he required a refueling. When he crawled over to the pile of cubes and scrap the seeker found themselves feasting on the metals more often than on the energon. The supply of scrap was steadily dwindling, but still stood tall enough to scratch the ceiling.

During the 7th solar cycle Starscream could feel pressure building again. It was centered in his thorax, along his chestplate but slowly crept up to his spinal strut. Starscream waited as the pressure built, kliks growing into breems growing into cycles, and the longer the wait the more unstable he became.

He was sure this was the one, this was the expansion that would take his life. His spinal strut would snap in two and he would die from either a lack of energon flow to his processor or from starvation. Or perhaps his spark chamber would be contorted violently enough to squeeze out his spark. He hoped his death would be quick, as he did not know for how much longer he would be able to endure the pain.

But the pressure continued to build and build, now just slightly painful, the sensation running from the base of his helm to that of his rear. Night had fallen cycles ago. The seeker was sobbing, mortally afraid, shifting to anger as his mind raced.

Was this a punishment from Primus, a 'frag you' before he was cast into the Pit? Was this what he deserved for all he did during the war? For all the pain and death he had caused, for his envious and treacherous nature? For losing sight of his true self and allowing the war to twist him into a monster?

He snarled into the dark. 'Frag it all… Frag it all! Do your worst!' His voice trembled. 'I'm not scared anymore, so hurry up, finish the job! Finish the fragging job-!"

He heard 3 cracks before he blacked out.

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(This was mostly just a test but if people like this i'll gladly continue.)


	3. Hideaway

The return of their leader had been a joyous event, but the operation to retrieve them had been taxing on their supplies. Their supplies were never high, usually only enough to scrape by provided that they were always on the lookout for mines to raid. They had found this one by chance. The energon signal was slight enough to only be detected while scouting in the general area, which was already moderately remote.

The raid wouldn't be too much of a hassle. The mine had little security, judging by the few vehicons that had been stationed outside being absent, but this also indicated that the mine did not hold a significant amount of energon. Nonetheless, the autobots entered the mine cautiously, Arcee and Bumblebee scouting ahead, blasters charged.

The tunnel of the entrance opened up to a large cavern. It was not very deep, and most of the raw energon had already been harvested, the mining equipment sitting near deposits that had yet to be collected. Oddly, one had seemingly been torn apart. The cavern had several tunnels leading deeper within, and Arcee could see a faint glow coming from one of them, right at the far end of the mine. This only caught her optic for a brief moment, as she soon turned her focus to the lifeless bodies of the vehicons strewn about the mine grounds. There were small amounts of energon pooling under some of the bodies, and trails leading to others, evidently not immediately struck down. Arcee scanned the area, looking for any movement, searching for any signs of danger. Whoever, or whatever had done this could still be here. Detecting no immediate danger, she signaled for the others to proceed, but did not move herself.

Bumblebee was silent, he was just as observant as Arcee was, but seemed focused on the deceased rather than their surroundings. The chassis just by the entrance received most of his focus, optics cycling and faceplates contorting in a mixture of disgust and worry. The vehicon's neck cords had been torn out, leaving their helm just barely attached, falling off to the side. Energon dripped down their frame, splattered around them and along the walls. The second vehicon had a hole punched right through their spark chamber, the jagged metal jutting outwards, indicating that the attack came from behind.

Bulkhead was more vocal about his concerns, giving voice to the question that the small team wanted the answer to. "What the frag happened here?'

Upon further exploration, they discovered that every last one of the vehicons had been killed. Whether servant or warrior, the carnage was all the same. The group made their way through the mine, too wary to be pleased with the decent sized energon store. They paired off, Bumblebee and Bulkhead investigating the energon stores while Arcee and Optimus secured the rest of the mine. The storage area, thankfully, was secure, And the only thing the two warriors were able to find were more chassis. They regrouped, deciding it best to transport the energon quickly while Optimus and Bulkhead stood watch.

So when something bolted out from one of the tunnels, head and body splattered with energon, the pair were able to fire upon it in mere nano-kliks. It was fast, the plasma always hitting behind the quadruped creature, which dashed straight for the exit. Arcee had come to help, but in the nano-kliks it took for her to emerge their target had already scaled the incline, kicking pebbles past it as it scrambled out of the cave and dashed off into the night.

v ^ v ^ v

He sprinted for a good few cycles, ignoring the burning in his legs until he was hidden in another cave. This one was certainly much smaller, making him feel just a tad claustrophobic, but that discomfort was quickly replaced by the soreness throughout his entire chassis. He collapsed, curling up as much of his body as could fit, his tail curled uncomfortably around his peds. His thorax was heated, tanks working to melt the metal down to begin digestion.

Starscream, still uncertain if his fate was good or ill, had survived the process, or at least most of it, as the finer mechanisms were developing under his armor. He found that his sensitivity would grow more refined with every passing solar cycle, his limbs feeling more his own rather than hunks of metal he just so happened to walk with. They became more responsive, the digits on his peds actually able to bend individually now, and certainly stronger, based on the fact that he did not falter once while escaping.

The stiffness was now gone from his spinal struts, and he felt he could maneuver the long protrusions that extended from it, especially the ones where his wings would be. They were certainly the most sensitive part of his chassis now, as he was able to detect the most subtle pressure changes with them. Learning how to read these changes took time, but they were more reliable than his other senses. Unfortunately, Starscream assumed this meant that damage to them would be much more painful than damage to his wings were. They had raked along the ceiling of the cave until he had found a way to lower them, the grating sending chills to his core.

His servos were now splayed peds, each digit capped with a large and sharp claw, his thumb being the largest, which he could either lock in place or swivel around. This had been proven to be useful in battle, but they did not function as servos anymore. Fortunately for him, not only was his tail fully prehensile, but it had what Starscream could only describe as a talon on the end, rather than tapering off. The talon was zygodactyl, the shorter, bottom digits lacking claws. The topmost pair however, had thick long ones that protruded from the base of the digits, nearly as long as the talon itself. Not exactly optimal, but bearable.

His helm had changed almost entirely, the only similarities being that his red crest had grown into a thick horn, and his optic ridge had grown more prominent. His helm was now elongated, his upper dentas growing out and over his lower dermas, and vice versa. He had grown two more sets of dermas, large, sharp and sturdy, as well as what he referred to as a second glossa, for lack of a better term. This new glossa resided under his first, and was more of a second mouth than anything else, only useful for draining chassis of energon, online or deceased. Horns protruded from the sides of his helm, starting from the bottom and almost framing his faceplates, curving upwards towards his spinal strut. His optics sat deeper into his faceplates, reddish-orange in color. His neck was most certainly longer, able to arch over his shouler without too much strain. The plates that covered his entire chassis were the light grey of fresh metal, mottled with the darker greys of his old paintjob. They were also rather soft, similar to those of vehicons, most likely due to his rather simple... diet. Even a moderate hit from a capable mech would undoubtedly leave a sizable dent in his side.

The immediate pain took at least a cycle to fade into a general ache, and a cycle more for Starscream to fall into recharge. When he awakened the canyon was painted with orange light, the seeker having been unconscious for the majority of the solar cycle. He shifted, crawling out of his hideaway and stretching his cramped limbs. He scanned the horizon, trying to remember where he came from. The harbinger was not too far away, at least 30 kliks. A bit of a walk, but when he managed, he might be able to figure out what his next moves would be… or at the very least make it easier to find mines.

But at the moment, all he wanted was a safe, comfortable place. His chassis was unfamiliar and somewhat unnerving, but he knew without a doubt that if he returned to Megatron he would be weaponized, whether or not he knew who this new beast was. He knew siding with the Autobots was a definite no. On one servo, he would be imprisoned as a war criminal, if not killed by the two wheeler first. On the other, he would most likely be killed for being a danger to other cybertronians… most definitely to humans as well, even if he didn't particularly care for them. After all, he did single servoededly decimate an entire mine, even if it wasn't very secure.

No, he would have to remain as he was, without factions. What was he even thinking? Who in the right mind would take in a beast? He was fragged from the start. Never again would he earn a title or status other than as a pet or a guard. And Primus knew that he would never attempt to chase his own death. The only thing the seeker - no, abomination more like it - could do now was try and survive. Raid energon, hide from both factions, whether the elements of this unforgiving planet, hope that he wasn't captured, killed in any way that wasn't instantaneous, or starve to death. Maybe in time he would grow numb to this. He had to grow numb to this. There was nothing to hope for, as the nature of his 'condition' made a cure impossible. No options, few prospects. Still, Starscream kept going, because frag it all, the only thing that horrified him more than this new existence the concept of death. And stellar cycles of war and treachery only confirmed one truth for the coward.

No matter what happened, he just didn't want to die.

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I'm going to end it here. I might do a few one shots as I attempt to refine this idea into something more focused, but for now, I hope you enjoyed my odd little concept.


End file.
